Meta-PhysicalFought writer's block.Meta-Physical in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Lost the plot.
Airhead (Oxymoron)Empty-headed.Airhead (Oxymoron) in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But so full of himself.
Relation-ShipsMother: scarlet ------ Father: blueRelation-Ships in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Unreliable NarratorSherlock Holmes stories?Unreliable Narrator in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They were doctored.
Over Before You Know ItCaught stealing.Over Before You Know It in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
(Just a short sentence.)
1 Across (4 Letters)Adding tea to oil.1 Across (4 Letters) in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Breaking EvenBroke her heart.Breaking Even in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Broke his nose.
:: Lonely Consequence ::Forgive and forget...:: Lonely Consequence :: in Free Verse More Like This
Regret. . .
:: More Than You'll Ever Know ::Does it make you proud:: More Than You'll Ever Know :: in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When you're the cause of someone's tears?
Does it bring you joy
Every time you insult the innocent?
Do you know what you do
When you speak with your vicious tongue?
Do you realize what happens
Every time you laugh at another's sorrow?
You see a woman with male friends
And you accuse her of craving sexual attention.
You notice a boy wearing glasses
And you tease him with the name "four-eyes."
There's a group of peace lovers;
You proclaim they're annoying hipsters.
The teenage boys who love each other;
You tear them asunder by calling them abominations.
Do you find pleasure
In being the source of a poor soul's agony?
Do you even think
Of what the consequences could be?
Does it satisfy you
To make someone feel inferior to you?
Does it quench your thirst
Whenever you rule over the oppressed?
If a young man loves writing poetry,
Immediately you dismiss him as a lonely loser.
:: Mental Illumination ::Emotionally strong;:: Mental Illumination :: in Free Verse More Like This
:: The Certainty of Grudges ::Tell me.:: The Certainty of Grudges :: in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Why should anyone hold a grudge?
Is it worth the aggression?
Is it worth the pain?
Is it worth the spitefulness?
Is it worth the time?
What good does it do?
To always be angry?
To always bear hatred?
To always be upset?
To always bear ill will?
If a person holds a grudge?
Why can't they be honest?
Why can't they forgive?
Why can't they let go?
Why can't they move on?
If the other keeps going with their life?
Do they not deserve peace?
Do they not deserve serenity?
Do they not deserve tranquility?
Do they not deserve respect?
Because I am certain
That the only thing
Holding a grudge does...
...Is simply bring the bearer eternal sorrow.
:: No More Pause Button ::I refuse to stop for anyone.:: No More Pause Button :: in Free Verse More Like This
:: Everything To Me ::To my darling...:: Everything To Me :: in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Do you remember our first discovery?
The first time we talked to each other?
We were shy; we were nervous.
Do you remember what brought us together?
What attracted you to me and me to you?
We were gamers-- PlayStation gamers.
Do you remember our first conversation?
Our first words for each other?
We were silly and oh-so cute.
Do you remember what life was like?
How lonely we were for so long?
We were envious and pessimistic.
Do you remember when we first met?
When distance was no longer a factor?
We were a little scared.
Do you remember our first date?
How lost we were in a superheroes' world?
We were holding hands and kissing.
Do you remember why we became one?
What bloomed the start of our relationship?
We were in love at first sight.
To my darling,
The love of my life,
Always remember every moment we share
Because you mean everything to me.
:: Love, Hate, Relate ::Love me or hate me:: Love, Hate, Relate :: in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
You see, I am who I am
I am no one's slave
Kiss me with your lips
Embrace me with your true love
And I will be yours
Here is my answer
If you cannot respect me
Then leave me alone
i don't believe in jesusno one celebrates losing virginity like they celebrate losing teeth.i don't believe in jesus in Free Verse More Like This
i don't get a dollar under my pillow for having sex with my boyfriend.
there are no doctors smiling at me when i tell them my cherry has been popped.
i am a whore for having premarital sex.
i am a tramp for loving someone enough to open my body to them.
no one celebrates losing virginity like they celebrate losing teeth -
but i slip mine under my pillow anyway, and in the morning when i wake,
there is a quarter and a tiny folded note:
"you are not a slut."
asymptomaticinability to stop self hatred,asymptomatic in Free Verse More Like This
migraine for almost two days straight.
no phone call back from my psychiatrist.
I am sweating.
it takes one typed letter for
your blog to pop up in my search history;
I'm not sure if you can call this poetry either,
though I can call the shots on what I feel.
(whether it is a burn or not - five hundred
miles does not mean that my heart doesn't ache so hard;
my body is quivering. I want to vomit.)
there are hickeys up and down my left wrist;
though they are not from kisses but the lips of
my nailbeds as I ran them over and over my skin.
this weekend I will have to explain to my boyfriend
why I don't use my pencil sharpener on art anymore,
but instead on my thighs - I will use the phrase
"a moment of weakness."
but you are not a moment, nor a fault -
you are caesar's downfall, though the whole
world will die knowing that it was his own blood
on his hands.
you may say i'm a dreamer, but i'm nota list of things i am not:you may say i'm a dreamer, but i'm not in Free Verse More Like This
no shitty ocean metaphors,
no poems about lovers and bones.
no girl with high school insecurities,
no misinterpreted radiohead lyrics
on the sidebar of a fifteen-year-old's blog.
a tea drinker, a book reader, a dreamer.
no dew drops of a saddened world
splashing on tin roofs or windowpanes.
no drawn out similes for depression or loss.
an ableist slur for the diagnosis of a mental illness,
starting with c and ending with y.
a lesbian. people are not their haircuts
or who they fall in love with.
no razored wrists and thighs.
no sick doggish romance.
no supermodel teen queen.
no irresistible object of sex and desire.
no poetess, no goddess,
but no less
than strengths and fallacies.
interlopershow me god the way your motherinterloper in Free Verse More Like This
knew him, show me the mark on
your body where he stopped
you from suicide, where he changed
your winters to summers and
address me by my first name to show
me that your respect for me hasn't
died, letter by letter, buried between
the bow of your hips alongside our
once-strong playground love.
tell me the preacher was lying as he
spoke of our comely desire falling to
the destructive hand of a deity no one
has ever seen, but feels as they speak
in tongues that never matched the ones i
spoke in to finally tell you that
i felt for you.
don't leave me in some drunken tantrum
across state lines, slurring words as
you try to tell me your love for someone
else is vivid and living in you, even in the
parts that have died away, breathing out
alcohol as you use the word "never".
curl into me with intimacy, touching the sadness
out of me, because i always wanted to be
the one you love, not the one you loved.
boys will be boysi was thirteen when my healthboys will be boys in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
teacher shrugged and said: "it
happens" in regards to rape.
he was a gym coach with a coffee
mug that read "world's best dad."
they gave me the one-in-three
statistic on a business card
during the half hour we talked about
sexual assault in class.
that number has become a top-heavy
fraction, though not top-heavy
the way boys like to hear of.
and i have learned that absolutely
no man will bend at the knees,
fold the way i have been told
to fold - for i have a flower
between my legs, and he has a snake.
i was taught to be lusted after
for my innocence, only to be tattooed
as guilty by a trial of my peers
in my high school lunch room.
my heart howls at the moon of knowing
i've had my phone number removed from
the contacts of those who loved me
before they dared to remove my rapist's.
the world may forever know me as impure
without looking at the hands of the boy
who touched me, without realizing that
they have dirt caked on their glasses.
and my war cries can
victims of changeonly a thin slat of light falls acrossvictims of change in Free Verse More Like This
the darkened room to rest on a wall
as lonely as i am, a wall that could
tell stories older than the blood in my body.
i think of how we are just people
who organize their lives and loves
into boxes of respective sizes, and
yet these boxes hold more than our
memories - they hold ourselves.
in this room, so many things have
happened: a lost innocence, a lost
virginity, a lost sense of self.
i cannot help but remember how this
room was just a futon and bunk-beds
when we first met, i also
cannot help but realize that this
room has cocooned and evolved
with me, over time.
in an attempt to rid you from where i
sleep, i switch beds.
in an attempt to rid you from myself,
i chance myself nightly.
and though i cannot see anything in
the unlit cave i call my bedroom, i
find comfort in the ceiling, for that is
where my memories, bad dreams, and
a love poemlike a dictionary ripea love poem in Free Verse More Like This
with salted, sun spotted
words that emanate power
and splendor, i am unable
to describe you.
renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyrenovations in Free Verse More Like This
and says, "i don't like what
you've done with the place."
pillow talkthere are thousandspillow talk in Free Verse More Like This
of tongues i could
memorize; new words
for love tucked between
teeth often biting
my chapsticked lips
could learn to bow to
grammar laws in
i could master writing
symphonies in syntax,
spend hours penning
volumes in languages
of longing and love,
but i'll never find a
phrase that fits you
the way your body fit
to mine, back bent.
i'll never find a name
for how our lips tucked
together, for my hands
in your hair, for the
rapture in your eyes.
a suicide of the saddest kindi am rotten with passion,a suicide of the saddest kind in Free Verse More Like This
struck down too soon with the hands of
ones i love,
and sick with the hearts
of a million dying daughters,
throats bleeding as they scream
i have taken to sea, rising with
the buck of mercury waves,
rising with the morning
and falling at the wayside,
for that is my place,
and as a woman, i should listen
more and talk less.
among the millions who breathe despair
as if it needed to be seen by throngs,
i have broken down in the crowd,
my heart giving way, but never
curling into my sadness,
i let it feel me instead
as i am a dangerous emotion.
i am cities burning by oceansides, waters
licking the shores with tongues that
have tasted what it means to be loved
i am wasted on people
who want me for what i seem,
not who i am.
Why wont you let go?Do you know what it feels like?Why wont you let go? in Free Verse More Like This
To feel nothing yet delve
into the darkness,
plunging into the unknown.
The unknown consumes you,
and you don't know
what to do with yourself.
Because you're just that detached;
isolated from everyone else.
You don't feel angry, oh no.
That isn't what you feel.
You just feel void, empty.
Like there's no emotion in you,
no one can contemplate,
or even understand you.
And you're just plagued
by this idea that
you brought this upon yourself.
All this sadness,
is because of you
and because you
wont let go.
And because you wont let go,
it'll keep coming back and
coming back to haunt you -
you'll never forget...
because it hurt you, that much.
Keeping secretsHave you ever cried yourself to sleep?Keeping secrets in Free Verse More Like This
And if someone asked you that,
how would you answer?
Truth be told, I used to -
Just lie in bed and think,
think about every single thing
and how I felt about it...
what it meant to me.
But I'll just say no,
because I don't want you to know
about how weak I am.
And it is when all is silent,
the tears will slide slowly,
soaking your pillow.
Like a movie,
the scene plays out in your head
of all those times when you were
damaged and broken.
Replayed and replayed until
all the images end up blur and disjointed.
Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
Yes, I have - many times, in fact.
But I'll just say no
because you're my friend
and if I were to tell you,
it would be the end.
RememberMemories.Remember in Free Verse More Like This
The thought worries me,
that I might just forget it all.
I'll forget the spontaneous times
where I would feel happy,
for really... no apparent reason.
I'm so scared,
that I'll wake up and
not remember anything,
and even if it means
losing the depressing memories -
I can't bear to let it go.
It shaped me into what I am today,
believe it or not -
all those sad, depressing memories.
And if I were to age and perhaps just
forget it all...
I would lose myself.
What would I do?
Who would I be?
Oh, sweet and painful memories -
please, never leave me.
A monster impossible to subdueI painted my hopes and wishes on a canvas,A monster impossible to subdue in Free Verse More Like This
Even though I knew... it wouldn't last.
The monster inside of me came out to play
Using a scarlet river to wash my dreams away
It salivated at the delicious, red meal -
All the happiness that it could easily steal
Using its claws, ripping it shred by shred
Stuffing it down its throat, it maliciously fed
And each shred it ripped, it ripped my soul
I fed and fed until it took its toll
I was sucked dry of my wishes and hopes
After the monster ate, it hung me with ropes
I dangled from the ceiling, tears delicately shed
My voice croaked and I plead and plead
A monster I created that killed all I knew
Impossible to remove, impossible to subdue
There is nothing to be done, for it is my love it feasts
Farewell my friends, I cannot compete against this beast
R.I.P WordsDo you know what it feels like?R.I.P Words in Free Verse More Like This
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have nothing.
Just another love poemThis is quite informal,Just another love poem in Free Verse More Like This
But let me say it here.
This poem is about
What I hold most dear.
A few simple words from him
Can make me feel so glad.
And when he insults me,
I don't even feel that mad.
I'm the girl who made the vow -
To never fall for someone.
My heart once woven tightly,
Has suddenly become undone.
Winning isn't everythingCongratulations.Winning isn't everything in Free Verse More Like This
Why, congratulations...you win!
And this will be the ninth time,
the ninth time you've won.
Soon enough, it'll be the tenth
and it's what I hate most about you -
how you want to win, all the time.
A mere joke can be twisted into
an inevitable argument, where
hot tears are shed and
relationships are broken.
That's why you're always,
always, going to be alone...
because you can't bear to lose,
'cause you're only used to winning.
Congratulations... you win,
and your prize?
A lifetime of loneliness.
Truth istruth is, i've loved youTruth is in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
for quite some time now, but i...
i can't show my feel-
Writer's blockInspiration.Writer's block in Free Verse More Like This
What does one even think of?
A monster, rabid, bubbling with froth?
Stars that dance across the night's sky?
Perhaps some psychic business, one's third eye?
Or perhaps something related to blood,
slicing one's veins and arteries to cause a flood?
Maybe, just maybe - a love story?
Where we create and reminisce in an old memory.
Let's take a leap of faith, be extra innovative:
Combine all these stories... into something creative.
A monster that rides the stars across the night's sky
and a psychic that needs blood over their third eye?
Veins and arteries that cause a loving flood
of one's emotions and of course, crimson blood.
And then with the tick, tock, of the clock,
Our story is complete - no more writer's block.
Hate into loveI think I might be in loveHate into love in Free Verse More Like This
The story starts with hate
Where you provoked me
In the end, turning to be bait
I don't understand myself
Insults spurring from you
Self-esteem plunging down
Yet I felt something true
You're a demented creature
Having gone through hell
Once opening your soul to me
Leaving me enchanted like a spell
That time was so precious
You told me your story
No longer talking like before
Yet imprinted into my memory
As your story ended
Mine was soon to unfold
I won't forget your help
Where you taught me control
Feelings forever fluctuating
Sudden warmth, a sudden cold
A kind heart reaching out to mine
A mean mouth ready to scold
I think I might be in love
The story starts with hate
Where I slowly fell for you
Lost, but I shall wait
The Craft of the CraftPoems are sculpted.The Craft of the Craft in Philosophical More Like This
Stories are woven.
Human Nature.Human Nature.Human Nature. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And the ambitious achievers.
Need the realists to stop them from flying too close to the sun.
The logical idealists
And the informed defeatists.
Need the dreamers to show them how some struggles can be won.
You see I am beginning to get the gist,
Of how we all unwittingly coexist.
Neither one can ever be dismissed,
As long as the reign of mankind persists.
As one tries, the other watches.
When one flies, the other dislodges
Stories aimed to defame, name, claim and shame.
Assuring and securing that the harsh reality still remains.
Purpose.Purpose.Purpose. in Free Verse More Like This
What would a story be?
If there was no one there to read it.
What would dreams be?
If there was no one there to conceive it.
What would a picture be?
If there was no one there to see it.
What would a secret be?
If there was no one there to keep it.
What would love be?
If there was no one there to feel it.
What would a song be?
If there was no one there to sing it.
What would the truth be?
If there was no one there to admit it.
What would advice be?
If there was no one there to give it.
What would life be?
If there was no one there to live it.
ArtArt.Art in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
The world is your canvas.
Society is your paint brush.
The people are your choice of colours.
What kind of picture would you paint?
How would it differ from the image that is currently on show?
Would you go mad and rid yourself from all forms of restraint?
Just how far down the rabbit hole are you willing to go?
I ask because every portrait I create,
Is inspired by what is already in front of me.
So is it possible to even recreate,
Anything that the mind is not able to see.
The picture will always be the same
Because this life is all we know.
Where there is compassion there must be pain
Because it us who made it so.
Puberty.Puberty.Puberty. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I just see it as you trying to control me,
Trying to turn me into something I’m not.
It’s like you want me to be sad, depressed and lonely
And that is why you break and regulate everything I've got.
Can’t you see I am doing this for your own good?
That I am trying to protect from all what is bad out there.
If I didn't do it, I can guarantee you that nobody else would.
It was never my intention to turn your life into a living nightmare.
You’re not protecting me, you’re preventing me,
Stopping me from taking and making my own decisions.
Even before I say or do anything wrong, you’re correcting me
And that is why I go to all these places without your permission.
As long as you are under my roof, you will abide by my rules.
You cannot see it now but in the future you will thank me.
That means I want you to go to and come straight home from school.
Recently your attitude stinks, so think before you speak and get an
Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany. in Free Verse More Like This
I thrive and depend on your compliments
And it is only then as a direct consequence,
Am I truly able to write with confidence.
Even though your words are only temporary.
I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,
In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.
My own validation depends on your approval.
Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.
Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.
Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?
When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?
How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?
Of a craft and skill I still think anyone is able to produce.
Is there any point in me putting my apparent talent to use?
When I limit and submit myself into a negative recluse.
I was told I must have self belief in order to achieve,
The dream that I am so desperately trying to receive.
The body can only accomplish what the mind believes.
I know I must rid myself from any form of self doubt.
Man Made the Money.Man Made the Money.Man Made the Money. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We think that if we had more money everything would be different.
That we would suddenly be able do all the things we always desired.
Because the lives we lead right now have become predictable and consistent.
And should we choose to, we could be the ones that are rejoiced and admired.
We could be the ones on the front cover of every magazine.
We could be the ones appearing on everyone’s television screen.
We could be the ones that the paparazzi haunt and terrorise.
We could be the ones that have our every move televised.
With the aid of money we could have unlimited vacations
And have access to an infinite amount of beneficial relations.
We could be the ones flocking and flaunting the finest fabrics
And every trivial experience we encounter will cause a global panic.
We could give back to charity and help to make the world a better place
We could cosmetically alter our bodies and readjust the features on our face.
We can become anyone we choose and crave.
Would You?Would You?Would You? in Free Verse More Like This
If I sung the same song everyday.
Would you remember the lyrics?
If I told you the world will end tomorrow.
Inside Out.Inside Out.Inside Out. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Do you love my insides?
You know the parts you can’t see.
The parts that constructively divide,
All the places where you can’t be.
Do you love my internals?
You know all my unexploited crevices.
All the words I leave out of my journal.
The soft tissue areas that offer no benefits.
Do you love my fleshy, raw fillings?
You know the boring and bloody parts.
The features that are not made for kissing.
The invisible strokes that add to this body of art.
You see it’s my exterior that attracts you
But it’s my interior that made this possible.
So when my insecurities inadvertently attack you,
Don’t be so swift to class me as distrusting and illogical.
I need to know and to understand.
That you truly love me for who I am.
Even the parts of me you cannot see
Because those are the places where I want you to be.
L.O.V.E.L.O.V.E.L.O.V.E. in Free Verse More Like This
It swallows you whole,
Exceeds your control.
Apprehends your soul,
Until it has taken its toll.
It’s an overwhelming feeling.
That is made to be appealing
And you can’t help revealing,
The doubts you are concealing.
It’s an undefined dimple
And a well known jingle.
But only when you are single
Does it all seem so simple.
It is one of life’s many gifts,
That empowers and uplifts
And can lead you adrift.
Should you miss your shift.
It is impossible to describe it.
It is impossible to fight it.
Because once it is ignited
And once you have tried it.
It will take your independence.
You will become used to its presence.
You will become addicted to its essence
And include it at the end of your every sentence.
It exists even in the hearts of its haters.
It is a taste even they will savour
And although its duration wavers.
There will never be a feeling that is greater.
Everything I have said and more.
I am merely repeating what you already know.
Reality Verses The DreamReality Verses The Dream.Reality Verses The Dream in Free Verse More Like This
Above the confines of the earths atmosphere.
I am embraced by the luminous clouds.
With the stars in reaching distance.
Surrounded by the acoustics of the sea.
Accompanied by the alluring scents of nature.
Observing the planets that stand like monuments.
This is the place where my body wants to be.
These are the sights my eyes want to see.
This is place where my mind can be free.
This is the only place where I can truly be me.
Now back to reality.
And the self perpetuating insanity.
Constricted by the codes of a conscripted morality.
Living in a world that is drenched in disparity.
How will I ever be able to see any sort of clarity.
Below the discoloured and tarnished ceiling.
I am held captive by my dishevelled duvet.
With only material possessions at my grasp.
Surrounded by a hybrid of silence and vulgarity.
Accompanied by the foul scents of decay and pollution.
Observing a society that stand and act like naïve slaves.
This is the
Final FarewellSlowly slipping away, she whispers goodbye...Final Farewell in Free Verse More Like This
Mimicrymildewed [ghosts]Mimicry in Concrete Poetry More Like This
haunt the c.r.a.c.k.s in the w do not
l their voices
Safeshe tells me that they stole her wordsSafe in Free Verse More Like This
marked them in red and wrung them out dry
leaving her shockingly [bare]
so she took up her -sharpest- pen
and she c a r v e d out her words
[close to her heart they'll be safe]
Catch me if you canI’m the anorexic at the local gym whom everybody watches but nobody looks at.Catch me if you can in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I’m the bulimic at school whom everybody pretends not to know about.
I’m the girl in your gym class with too many scars to be telling the truth.
I’m the kid with her head down in the library who is always “fine.”
I’m the boy who 'fell down the stairs'...again.
I’m the child who doesn't show up for school lunch because it's too expensive.
I’m the teenager living a double life in front of your very eyes.
Catch me if you can.
ControlControl is everything. Self-control, that is. Control how you act, what you say, what goes into your body, and maybe — just maybe — you'll be able to control you are. Power is addictive; my drug of choice, but it comes at a cost. You see, what you don't learn until it's too late? Sooner or later, the need for control — controls you.Control in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Generally, I’m a good kid. I pay attention in school, earning the high grades that decorate my report cards. I may not be especially popular, but I certainly have friends. I usually do as I’m told, don’t flagrantly disobey rules, and I try hard to please people. I retrace my steps in my mind, searching for the slip — the fall — that landed me here, on this cool, clammy table, wearing not much more than a requisite thin gown.
A crisp knock on the heavy wooden door to the exam room startles me, bringing my attention back to my predicament at hand. After
Wake-up callwhen you're drowning in an ocean of sad thoughts,Wake-up call in Free Verse More Like This
you don't trip out onto the beach:
sooner or later, the waves will sweep you off your feet
and you will be unprepared
when the waters close over your head.
instead, you take a deep breath
and say your prayers
and you dive in.
the quickest way to learn to swim
is to have no other choice.
better on your floor than ever in my bedi have not slept well without the aid of sedatives since you left.better on your floor than ever in my bed in Emotional More Like This
the dreams are screamers that set my lungs on fire and burn my body to bones and when i wake up, it is in a bed of ashes and i am alone to rebuild.
i am not a phoenix
and i cannot live on smoke.
the drugs, they dampen the ground beneath my feet, the air is thick with the tension before a storm that never comes, and i choke on every breath and wake from drowning without remembering the struggle. the memories elude me. the forgetting is, in a way, worse.
you used to be able to beat down the blaze, to pull me from the fire-pit before i settled in for the night. you used to make me feel safe.
in your bed, with you close, the dreams still came. they didn’t fear you the way they should have. but you displaced them, stood up to them and chased away the dark, and with you next to me, i slept better than i had in a year. because when i woke in the dead of night, when i cried and no one h